The Prince of Midnight
by Kasey Clark
Summary: Through years of endless ridicule and cruel pranks, the future Head of House survives his school years and becomes an incredibly intelligent wizard. He's quickwitted and intimidating, his mind is sharper than most, but how damaged is his heart?
1. Prologue

**Title: **The Prince of Midnight

**Prologue**

**Summary: **My take on one of the tortured teachers of Hogwarts. Through years of endless ridicule and cruel pranks, the future Head of House survives his school years and becomes an incredibely intelligent wizard. He's quick-witted and intimidating, his mind is sharper than most, but how damaged is his heart?

**Pairings: **As of right now, I plan to make James and Lily a couple, and I'm considering SS/RL. But, in the prologue there isn't any, so no worries. I'll cross this bridge when I get to it.

* * *

For the first time of that summer, the weather was not black and rainy. The clouds had moved westward, leaving behind giant puddles and a muggy atmosphere. The children living in Berkshire were forced out of their houses and were advised to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted.

Jasper's Circle, one of the oldest and poorest streets in Berkshire, held only a handful of houses. The rest of the land was overgrown with weeds and consumed by woods. There was only one child who lived on the street, and he was the only boy who did not jump for joy at the chance to play hide and seek with his friends.

Shortly after noon on that day, a small barn owl appeared at the window of the boy's home. The child, who's father was nowhere to be found, entered the kitchen and let slip a smirk. It was the first in many years. Hastily, he threw open the window and untied the piece of parchment on the owl's leg. He knew it was only a matter of time. August was creeping to a close and there wasn't much time left to purchase books and robes.

The boy almost tore the parchment to pieces in the process of opening it. But he didn't seem to mind, all he needed to see was the title, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" before sprinting out of the room in persuit of his mother.

After sweeping the living room and dining room several times, the adolescent discovered his mother sitting outside on the porch, staring at the woods next door.

"M-mother," he stuttered, one hand clutched to the piece of parchment. "I think you should read these." He handed the acceptance letter over, reluctant to give it up.

"Oh! Finally! Finally. My son, the Hogwarts...Oh, and I was beginning to think it'd never arrive. All these years...so many years spent in fear that you were...Oh! You're going to Hogwarts!"

The boy listened silently as the prematurely aged woman wept for joy. He wanted her to take him to Diagon Alley right then. He wanted to enter the wizarding universe as soon as possible. He had just built up the courage to suggest he retrieve the Floo Powder, when the woman's crying ceased, and she looked at her son with her silvery eyes, horrorstricken.

"Son!" Her anxiety deflated all the cheery feelings the boy had developed in the past five minutes. He had a suspicion of what the woman was about to say, but hoped dearly it was wrong.

"When your father gets back from the pub, you _must_ go straight to your room. I-I will handle telling him. Quick! He'll be back any minute now. Go in my old trunk, the one that's in my closet, and see if you can find any of these books in there. It will save us some Galleons if we do."

The boy grabbed the paper that had brought him so much excitement and anticipation and stormed back into the house. Slamming the front door as hard as he could, he began to shake with rage. Nearby, a lamp flickered for a moment, then burst into a thousand pieces.

He didn't care. Kicking the hall wall, the eleven year old burst into his miniscule bedroom and fell unto his bed. He wanted to punch something, slam something into a rock, break something fragile. Glancing at his bookstand in the corner, the boy's eyes swept through the titles on the spines.

He already owned all the books on his list.

But that was no surprise, really. He had long since stolen all his mother's old textbooks, and, when the oppurtunity arose, he never went into Flourish and Blotts without purchasing some old book of potions or spells.

Still seething, the child began to pace his room, his long hair falling in front of his eyes as if it were a curtain. The room, containing only a single bed, the bookstand, and a rather large closet, was no hiding spot for his father's wrath. The man was a vile monster, leaving his family with nothing more than embarrasement and bruises. The boy dreamed of the day he'd be whisked away to Hogwarts, never having to worry about the creature called his father for several long and glorious months.

Night had fallen outside the boy's room early and with it came the all familiar rain. It pounded on the roof and fell in gigantic drops onto the grass in swift motions. It was almost as if it were reflecting the kid's mood.

The boy did not have to be warned his father had returned. He heard the front door fly open and the slurred greeting to his mother. It took all the boy's strength not to escape through his window and flee. The voices of the two floated to the child's ears. The walls in the house were thin and unable to hold any secrets. The fast, slightly raspy, voice of his mother began to tell the deeper, slower voice, of her husband about their son's news, and before anyone was expecting it, the boy heard his mother hit the floor.

The silence that followed was almost deafening. The boy knew in a matter of seconds he'd be next. His father would burst into his room, his face red with fury, and demand to know if it was true. If he was, in fact, just like his mother.

_A freak. _The boy thought to himself. His father had tried to deny it throughout his entire life. He told his only son that he was normal. That despite his intelligence for everything magical, despite his already large collection of herbs and and potions, he was _not_ like his mother.

The boy was pulled out of his terrible memories by the appearence of his dad. Cowering on his bed, the man seemed to tower over him. His dark hair, so similar to his son's, hung limply on his head, unclean and unkept. The dark eyes, which were misted over, bore down on the shivering figure and glared.

"I-I cannot believe you would do this to me. You, my only child, would choose _this_?!" the elder male pointed to the bookstand, "Over me? You would rather go off to some...nutter school and play with your, your chemistry set? End up just like your mother? A worthless sack of dung who does nothing but sit around writing letters and talking to faces in the fire? That is what you want?! _That_?!" The man took a step closer to the bed, causing the child to close his eyes momentarily.

"It's what I'm supposed to do," he replied, staring at his bedsheets.

His father took a minute to answer. But when he did, the coldness in his voice froze the boy's blood in his veins. "What you're supposed to do...And what, praytale son, am I _supposed_ to tell everybody else when you disappear. Surely the neighbors and your old classmates will want to know what happened."

"Nobody will notice."

"Nobody will notice?" The boy watched in fear as his father grinned maliciously. "Well, it is true that, because of your mother's decision to homeschool you, the few friends you used to have, have long since abandoned you. And even Mrs. Griffith down the street cannot stand your cheeky little attitude. She says it's a wonder you haven't curled up and died yet."

"I chose not to be friends with those _muggles_."

"No, no, dear son," the grin was still pasted onto his father's evil face. "The reason you don't step foot outside this house is because they are the ones who hate _you_. They don't want to be seen with some crazy kid who keeps his nose stuck inside those satanic books and uses blades of grass in some absurd concoction. They don't want to be seen with a boy who's eyes light up every time one of those damn owls comes to our house. And they most certainly don't want to be seen with a boy who looks for broomsticks in the sky!"

The boy wished he could vanish into the headboard he was resting on. He feared the man standing in front of him just as much as he hated him. And to say something back to his hurtful remarks would only earn him another bruise or welt.

"You know," the man sat down on the end of the bed, suddenly calm. "When your mum told me she had suspicions 'bout you, I told her she was going crazy. You were _my_ son. And my son would never do that to me. But even as an infant you showed signs of being one of them. You broke glass with your cries, you turned the radio dials when you were hungry, and that attitude...oh, I should have known. That _haughtiness _you're so fond of displaying...that only comes from your mother's side."

"Well, it shouldn't come as a shock to you, then. We all knew I was going to go," still shaking, the boy sat up, his arms wrapped in a firm grasp around his legs.

"You know if I had my way I'd rip that paper up and you'd never catch one glimpse of that place!" Standing up, the elder had regained his fury. "But your mother would never allow that. She wants you to be the best...the best _student_ of your time. Well, so be it! You have been a disappointement to me since you were young, so why should I expect this to be any different?"

And with unexpected swiftness the man turned on the child and hit him with such a force it sent him rolling to the other side of his bed.

"Stop! Stop it! I've told you a million times! You can hurt me as much as you want, but don't you dare lay a finger on my boy!" Before the boy had regained his senses, his mother was leaning on his doorframe. Rushing over to him, she pulled out her wand, a ten inch piece of willow wood, and stopped the flow of blood that was running out of the child's nose.

Speaking in barely above a whisper, she said, "Don't worry, my child, we are going to Ollivanders tomorrow, and you'll be fit to go."

"Put that away! You know how much I despise it!"

"How much you fear it, you mean?" The boy watched as his mother began cleaning her wand on her clothes.

"Just put it away. It's bad enough that I learn my son is going to have one of them, I don't need you whisking yours out on the spur of the moment."

The gray of the woman's eyes met the blackness of the man's. "Promise you'll stop hurting him. It's not his fault he's going to Hogwarts. We don't chose to be what we are, dear, it's just life. Besides, you should be proud. It's going to be your son who'll be the smartest of his class. He already knows more than most third years."

"And I wonder who's to blame for that?" The man sneered. "If he wasn't sitting at home all day, reading through your old books, he might've chosen not to go."

"Tobe, I'll only say this once more. Leave. Him. Alone." The boy looked on in awe as his mother faced the other male. He had never seen his mother stand up for herself, or him, in his entire life. Around her husband, she lost all nerve and obeyed his every command, no matter how cruel the task was. It was one of the reasons he looked down on his mom. She was weak. She couldn't defend herself against her own husband, even when her son's well-being was at risk.

But here she had taken a stand. She was ensuring her son's enrollement in the wizarding world, even at the cost of her life. The petrified woman that had spent so many years crouched in a corner, begging for mercy, had departed and was replaced by something worthy of the title of a mother. It was one of the few good memories the boy would have concerning his mom.

"I am going to put on some tea. If you'd like me to cook you something, I'd be more than happy to, but only if you let the boy enjoy his last few days at home in peace."

The man, just as shocked as his son by his wife's new bravery, stood silent, thunderstruck. He waited for more threats, or even a jinx, but none came. Instead, the woman replaced her wand in her pocket and walked briskly out of the room. Turning his attention back to the boy, he hissed, "You always have to cause trouble, don't you? You can't, for one minute, appreciate all that I've given you and your mother. I hope you're happy. You've made my life a living hell. I've fathered you for eleven years, and all I get in return is a wizard for a son who's biggest ambition in life is to shoot spells at people. Oh, thank you, son."

And without waiting for an answer, Tobias Snape shuffled out of the room, the wine he had consumed at the pub completely worn off.


	2. Hail

**Story: **The Prince of Midnight

**Chapter** **1**: Hail

**A/N: **All right, I decided to go a different path with this story. Originally, I was going to make Severus and Remus become "cordial" with each other, but since then I decided against it. I'm still keeping James/Lily, but now there's a good chance of Severus/ Lily.

* * *

Great claps of thunder could be heard from the distance inside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The sky outside the windows was a dark black and the ground below was filled with soft mud. The corridors were busier than usual, due to the fact that nobody wanted to study outside in the courtyard.

Making their way through a bustle of students was a pale and skinny boy. His uniform was wrinkled from the attempt to escape the crowd; his robes tattered at the end and his green and silver tie crooked. A group of second year girls flinched slightly as he shuffled past.

He didn't bother to notice their furtive glances and blushes of embarassment. His head was cast downward at the book in his hands and he seemed to be deeply intrigued by the contents.

Just as he was rounding a corner on the second floor the sound of a fellow sixth year stopped him short.

"_Oh, Snivelly!"_

Severus Snape managed to drop his book and pull out his wand in a matter of seconds.

"Now, now, Snivellus, there's no need to be violent," a handsome boy with curly black hair smirked. "We just wanted to wish you farewell before the holiday break. Wouldn't want our favorite Slytherin to think we'd forgotten all about him."

"Exp-"

"Locomotor Mortis!"

The spell was cast from behind Snape and immediately felt his legs freeze. He tried to move his feet forward but they stayed locked together and with a loud thud he fell, face first, onto the corridor floor.

"Good one, James!" the curly haired boy exclaimed, tears streaming from his eyes.

Severus screamed a few choice words, but his yells were muffled by the ground.

"C'mon, we're going to be late for Charms," another boy emerged from behind James. Unlike the other two, his mouth was in the shape of a frown.

"Oh, it won't matter. When has Flitwick ever given us detention? Besides, I'm not done with old Sev yet," Sirius chuckled, poking the enraged Snape with his foot.

The third boy shook his head. "You know, I could give you guys detention. I _am _a Prefect, after all."

James finally spoke. "You spoil everything, Remus. Keep this up and we might just have to ditch you."

Sounds from the other end of the walkway broke all the boys from their fun. Footsteps were becoming louder as a group of teenagers came into view.

"Let's go, I'm pretty sure I see some yellow on those guys' ties, and we all know how well _they_ can keep a secret," Sirius grumbled. He stooped next to Sev, grinning maliciously. Without second warning his hand reached for the bag lying beside the Slytherin and found the opening. Never breaking his gaze, Sirius poured all the contents onto the floor, shattering ink bottles and sending heaps of paper everywhere.

The oncoming group had now reached the place where James was standing. They watched in silence, trying their hardest not to laugh. It was a common event to see the two most popular Gryffindor boys causing mayhem throughout the school, but it was a special treat to catch them in the act of tormenting the least liked boy of all.

Making sure to kick his schoolbooks as hard as possible, Sirius finally bent to pick up his own bag, stepping on as many quills as possible in the process. James had joined his side and both had begun to walk away. They had taken only a few steps when the shouts of a silky voice raged from behind.

Storming through the crowd of Hufflepuffs came a slender girl with fierce auburn hair and dazzling green eyes. She walked straight to James and Sirius, stopping only to un-lock Severus's legs. She came to halt inches from James's face and began to prod him furiously in the shoulder with her finger.

"James Potter, I swear, if you don't stop picking on innocent people I am going to haul your pathetic Quidditch playing butt straight to the headmaster!"

A sheepish expression had overcome the sixth year. His cheeks began to match the girl's hair and he tried his hardest to avoid her gaze.

"You know, I don't get you," Sirius chimed in from beside James. "How many times has that git called you dirty names, and yet you _still_ make us out to be the bad guys."

"Lily-" James said hastily. A fire had flickered in the girl's green eyes as she turned her attention on Sirius. Pulling her away, they both turned to see Severus dashing about, madly trying to shove his belongings back into his bag.

The crowd had begun to grow larger as more and more students were arriving and trying to pass. Throwing a heated glance at James, Lily bent down and began to gather some loose paper that was still on the ground. The other kids, becoming impatient at the hold-up, were starting forward through the small group, mindless of where they were stepping. When a heavyset Ravenclaw left a muddy footprint on one of Severus's essays for Transfiguration, he let out an angered yell.

"Here, I think this is the last of them," Lily said softly, handing the boy several pieces of parchement. She noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that the other three had disapeared in the crowd.

"You didn't have to help me," Severus grunted, flinging the bag on his shoulder and standing up. Lily, following suit, narrowed her eyes.

"So you're telling me you would have been happy to re-do that entire History of Magic summary? Not to mention buy a whole new set of Ancient Runes books?"

Severus, who had been staring at the ground, looked up momentarily. Meeting the girl's eyes, his pale face seemed to become whiter. Dropping eye contact, he shrugged his shoulder silently.

"Well..." Lily paused, a strand of red hair falling in front of her eyes. Pushing it absentmindly behind her ear, she seemed to gain her nerve. "Have a good Christmas, Sev."

And without another word she turned in the opposite direction and began to walk away. Halfway down the hall she was overtaken by two other Gryffindor girls and became nothing more than a blur of black robes. Nevertheless, Severus continued to stare in that direction, his black eyes dancing.

* * *

The storm that seemed to carry on into the following morning, bringing with it sleets of rain and a biting wind. Sitting alone at the Slytherin table, Severus was surprised to see a sleek snowy owl fly into the Great Hall and land in front of his glass of pumpkin juice.

Receiving mail was a rare occasion for the boy. His mother used to make it a habit of writing once a month to keep in touch with her son, but eventually stopped when Severus entered his fourth year, mailing him only on his birthday and Christmas.

Unrolling the parchement tied to the bird's leg, Severus's black eyes roamed the page, wary.

_S.S._

_Meet at two o'clock in the Common Room. _

_L.M. _

A wave of chills swam through the boy's body. His hands began to shake as he made to rip the paper into shreds and his pasty pale forehead had beads of sweat forming.

The boy tried to calm himself down, but his attempts were failing miserably. He watched as the few people who had stayed behind for the holidays were trickling out of the Great Hall until nobody was left but him.

_Of course. This is the perfect moment. Everyone's gone, there's no chance of interruption. _

Severus's mind was buzzing. Feeling as if he were going to be sick, the boy rushed to the nearest bathroom. Checking the stalls to make sure he was alone, he began to pace. His feet hit the tiles and soon picked up a rythmic melody, echoing off the white walls and drowning out all thoughts.

_I can't do it._

_I have to._

_But I can't!_

Hours seemed to pass before Severus stopped. His pitch black hair falling in front of his face, he suddenly thought of the previous day. Sirius's sarcasm. James's cruelty. Remus's cowardice.

And Lily.

Lily Evans. A muggle born girl. Saving him, trying to act brave and sincere.

_I hate them all. _Severus thought, his fists clenched.

Anger propelled the Slytherin out of the bathroom and in the direction of the dungeons. He allowed the fury to boil inside of him, to pulse through his veins, until he wanted nothing more than to reap vengence on the infamous Potter boy and his filthy friends.

Storming on, Severus knew he would be able to face the fire and all the monstrous news that it would bring. The hatred running through his veins propelled him to do what he knew he must.

_Have a good Christmas, Sev._

The words made Severus pause. The image of Lily Evans flashing him a quick smile appeared in his mind.

_No. She's a stupid mudblood. _

But he couldn't shake the image. The harder he tried, the brighter her emerald eyes shown, the silkier her voice became.

Severus had completely stopped walking. What had driven him moments before seemed like a distant memory as he let the newest memory overcome him. He closed his eyes and saw her hair bounce on her shoulders as she turned, the light catching it and causing it to shine brighter than ever.

And then.

A boy was pulling Lily into a tight embrace. He was talling a joke in which she found hilarious, sending smooth chuckles through the hallways. She grabbed the boy's left hand with her right and they bounded off together, never breaking eye contact.

The anger that had surged through Severus minutes before had returned as if in a flash of white hot lightening. He lowered his eyes to the ground, using every bit of reserve in his body not to lash out and punch the wall beside him.

That boy holding Lily did not have his hair.

He did not have his large, black eyes.

That boy was not Severus.

It took an eternity for him to make it to the Slytherin dungeon. Collapsing into a hardbacked chair, Taking a few deep breaths and closing his eyes, Severus waited for two o'clock to arrive.


End file.
